


the definition of home

by gwanshim



Series: kiss me softly [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Comfort, DEAD FIC NO UPDATES UNTIL THE END OF TIME, Developing Relationship, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Emotional Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Masturbation, M/M, Making Out, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Romantic Tension, Sexual Tension, this fic is just a whole lot of fucked up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-04-30 11:12:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5161655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwanshim/pseuds/gwanshim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Xu Minghao thinks he's pretty independant. He's sure he can do things by himself given the time, and definitely isn't one to ask for help - it's just that he struggles with his grades and his emotions more than he probably should. He feels a little bit lost, but Junhui is there with him the whole way. And that's okay.</p><p>
(The high school AU where Minghao needs all the guidance he can get, and Junhui is the overachieving, corny best friend who's there for him whether he likes it or not.)
</p><p>//indefinite hiatus - will not get updated for a long time or even ever. please read at your own discretion!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. too long to the weekend

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome. It's me again with more junhao lovin' (they're so important and ugh).
> 
> This is actually a sequel (can it even be called that) to my first Seventeen chinaline fic '[only fools fall](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5091458)' and **I do suggest you read that first** even though that was really just supposed to be a drabble - this is horrible. I can't story for the life of me so don't expect anything wonderful ugh I'm actually so disappointed in myself, but I wanted to write more about these two characters - so I thought " _why not completely ruin this fic and give it more story_ ".
> 
> So that's what I did. I'm turning my barely 2k drabble with no dialogue into a chaptered story, who would've thought.
> 
> * * *
> 
> I'm going by the 3 year high school system (because I don't even know what the difference between a sophomore and a junior is).  
>  '[only fools fall](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5091458)' takes place near the end of the 2nd year and _this_ takes place about a quarter of the way through the 3rd year.
> 
> They're both 18-ish in this with Minghao fresh into adulthood and Junhui more on the tail end of 18, so he'll graduate when he's 19 I guess (which is okay in terms of the info I've gathered googling). So I guess Minghao is the same age he is now and Junhui is about a year younger.
> 
> * * *
> 
>  This whole thing is also inspired by [Troye Sivan's Wild](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3awzvNrKDsg) (the actual song and not the music video this time) so all the chapter titles are lyrics from the song. Troye seems to be all over the Seventeen tag here on AO3 though hahaha fight me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **home**   
>  /həʊm/   
>  __  
>  noun   
>  **1.**  the place in which one's domestic affections are centered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is really just an 8.5k character introduction chapter with heavy making out & it's definitely not as pretty as the original drabble forgive me, i really don't know how to story consistently.

_He finds it in those lips._  
_Those lips, that dance over his collarbones when it’s dark outside._  
_Those lips, that whisper gentle promises into his hair when he sleeps._  
_Those lips, that press softly against his own when he needs it._  
_Those lips, that call him beautiful when he’s become lost._  
_Those lips, that he calls home._  
_He finds it in those lips._

* * *

Weather forecasts never tend to be very reliable, and that fact is proven right when Minghao steps out of class that Monday, freshly marked test paper in hand, rain bucketing down onto the school’s tin roof and mood absolutely abysmal; he blames it on the noise and his atrocious score on his newly acquired test. He’s never going to hear the end of it if his parents find out, so his solution is simple. _Don’t let them find out._ The more he thinks about it though, the more he knows it's going to be almost impossible if the teacher goes ahead with his threat to e-mail them about it, and the throbbing pain in his head really isn’t helping him with any good ideas of how to avoid telling his parents what a failure he is.

What _really_ doesn’t help is the rain, and the fact that it was frankly, really _really_ cold right now. The only other thing Minghao has on besides the standard white shirt, blue and red striped tie and grey trousers was his worn out navy school jumper he wears basically every day. He finds it comfortable to wear - in fact, he’s probably more comfortable wearing it than he is not - but after you wear something like that in the scorching summer, it doesn’t tend to be very helpful when the wind grows cold and the ground turns to ice.

The rain falling outside is far from quiet, especially with the god awful tin roof making every small drop sound like it’s being pelted with large rocks instead of the water that it actually is. The noise feels almost deafening, loud rumbles from faraway thunder barely audible over the rain that looms overhead. The throbbing in Minghao’s head seems to get worse at this, and bad mood aside, he feels like he’s starting to grow a little more annoyed than usual.

The other thing that isn’t exactly quiet are the hundreds of students filing out of their respective classrooms, grabbing their bags from their lockers and getting the _hell_ out of there because who wants to stay behind at school on a rainy Monday afternoon? Not Minghao, and not the rest of the student and faculty. Most female students seem to have prepared beforehand, and brought umbrellas. Some have pink polka dots with white frills decorating the edges, some are plain clear plastic, and some are even sacrificed to particular boys who Minghao can only guess the girls have some sort of a crush on. It’s awfully cliche.

He watches on from his place near the classroom door, back pressed up against the dry plaster wall as students continue to file out of the building. Minghao looks out the window and can see boys - and some girls - who don't seem to have an umbrella, running out over the grassed area in front of the school, heading home and subsequently being pelted and drenched in rain. He wonders just how many ' _my homework got wet'_  excuses he would hear in class the next day, and makes a mental note to possibly use that one too.

Once the halls are clear enough, Minghao moves over to lean against the door frame, long, lanky limbs hanging limply by his side. He turns around to look inside as Wen Junhui, his best friend since middle school - a brown haired, brown eyed, sharp featured older boy with a killer jawline, and who was no more than a centimeter or two taller than him - grills their chemistry teacher - a middle aged man with black rimmed glasses, greying hair and wrinkles for days - about how many marks he should’ve gotten in the test. Minghao groans in annoyance, bleach blond hair falling over his eyes as he rests his head on the cold metal door frame. He doesn’t really want to wait, but Junhui had declared another study session at Minghao’s place at lunch that day, and Minghao couldn’t really say no. Not that he wanted to.

Minghao almost feels sorry for their chemistry teacher, he thinks. The poor guy looks half annoyed, wrinkles seeming to droop even more than usual and frail glasses threatening to slip off his nose - and heck, Minghao would be pretty annoyed too if Junhui started pointing out that he’d marked half of his test wrong after school on a goddamn _Monday_. Now that he thinks about it, he _is_ quite annoyed. The throbbing in his head is starting to feel numb, and not in a very good way; the tips of his fingers starting to grow cold too.

That was just Junhui though. An overachiever who made sure he got all the marks possible in tests, who was so compulsive about just an extra mark he could snatch, that he’d stay behind at school and legitimately _bully_ their chem teacher into adding extra marks in. Minghao himself admits that he doesn’t have the patience, the motivation, nor the amount of fucks to give to do the same, and he really just wishes that Junhui would hurry the _hell_ up because he just wants to go _home_. Maybe even have a nice cup of hot chocolate when they get there.

The rain starts to let up by the time Junhui gets to his last couple of questions, noise slightly more reminiscent of the occasional pebble instead of a constant bucket of stones. Minghao thanks his lucky stars and sends up a quick prayer to the heavens because he does _not_ want to get wet, and neither Junhui nor he have an umbrella just in case things go awry. Minghao mentally curses the weather forecast on the television last night that predicted clear skies with the chance of a light shower. This was definitely _not_ what he’d call clear skies with a chance of a light shower.

Minghao nearly misses it because he’s too busy praising the gods for lighter rain, but Junhui starts to make his way over after he’s successfully convinced the teacher to re-mark his entire test, and suddenly that test paper in Minghao’s hand is feeling _uncomfortably_ heavy. He fumbles awkwardly in an attempt to hide it and avoid any unwarranted questions from the other boy about the horrible score and quickly folds it and stuffs it into the sleeve of his school jumper, just before Junhui gets there. He isn’t spared the suspicious look the other gives him, but Junhui seems to brush it off when the blond slips an arm around the taller boy’s shoulders, heading off down the near empty hallway. He finds the reach a little uncomfortable, but he doesn’t mind.

“So,” Minghao speaks up, looking over at the brunet, red undertones of the dyed brown coming out a beautiful auburn under the fluorescent lights. The blond mentally praises himself for choosing such a nice colour to dye Junhui’s hair since the other boy had initially been against the whole idea. He doesn’t think Junhui regrets it though, especially when Minghao brings up his hand to run through the gentle brown locks, and Junhui looks over with a quirked brow. Minghao assumes it’s a warning because there’s still the stray student wondering the halls, but none of them seem familiar enough for Minghao to move his hand away just yet. “How many marks did you milk the poor professor for this time, Jun?”

“I was at eighty four, but teach said I’d probably be bumped up to a solid ninety percent.” Junhui announces smugly, and Minghao can’t help but scoff and roll his eyes at his tone, pulling his hand back and tucking it into his pocket when a familiar classmate finally walks close by. He congratulates Junhui anyway, telling him that he’s probably smarter than the whole grade and he doesn’t expect any less from him. Of course, Junhui knows this already.

They end up making it to their adjacent lockers, Junhui quickly pulling open the already opened lock while Minghao fumbles with unlocking his own. They talk. It’s just small talk, but Minghao thinks it’s nice, and Junhui tells him about his weekend being boring while Minghao quickly drags his tattered backpack out of the cramped space in his locker, shoving textbooks and worksheets in haphazardly. It doesn’t take him long before he’s zipping up the bag with a huff and throwing the heavy bag over his shoulder. He doesn’t bother slipping his other arm through, and the one strap stays dangling while the bag hangs from its perch upon Minghao’s shoulder.

Junhui, however, is still stuffing papers into his bag, chatting away while Minghao leans against the metal lockers with a loud clutter, listening to how Junhui grumbles about that test again. His hands are motioning as he speaks, and it’s probably why he takes longer than he should getting things out of his locker, but he finishes soon after Minghao pushes his shoulder when he brings up his test score again, both of them laughing heartily. Minghao thinks his headache might be gone.

“What did you get?” Junhui inquires once both their lockers are shut. His eyes are trained on Minghao’s own and there’s a sudden sense of pressure. Minghao opens his mouth to answer before he remembers, and suddenly all the regret and reality and pure _dread_ comes crashing back down to Earth. He doesn’t really want to answer, but Junhui’s waiting with pure curiosity on his features and he can’t _not_ tell him.

“A pretty bad mark,” is all Minghao says before grabbing Junhui’s arm, dragging him towards the exit because he really just wants to get _out_. He hears the older boy groan indignantly, but he lets Minghao pull him along, completely foregoing any resistance and following close behind.

“Minghao, tell me properly,” the older boy chides, and Minghao feels a little more guilty than he originally did before as he pushes open the door and steps outside, cold air hitting him right in the face. It stings his eyes and he thinks he probably deserves that, but he’s also noticed that the rain has stopped, slivers of sunlight peeking through the still dark clouds. It was much quieter like this, and Minghao thinks he hears the birds starting to sing again as he drags Junhui across the grass.

Junhui clears his throat loudly when Minghao doesn’t answer for a while, to which Minghao shoots him an apologetic look, his brows knitting together. He frowns as he reasons with himself. Sure, Junhui might be disappointed in him, pity him, worry about him, but he needed to be honest. Junhui would probably snoop around or ask a teacher and end up finding out himself anyway if Minghao didn’t say anything.

“Fifteen percent,” Minghao mumbles to Junhui as he continues to pull the taller boy through the school yard, averting his eyes and hoping the other boy heard something like fifty or maybe even a hundred instead. Junhui’s hearing must be amazing though, and Minghao finds himself pretending not to notice the look of concern that quickly flashes over Junhui’s features.

“Fifteen percent?” The brunet clarifies, to which Minghao nods reluctantly. He feels Junhui stop in his tracks, so Minghao does too. He turns around, looking up at the older boy and letting go of his arm, a light laugh emerging from his lips. Minghao notices that he’s shivering from the cold, hands shaking by his sides, so he pulls his jumper sleeves down, covering his fingers. Even though Junhui is wearing the exact same thing, he’s not.

“It’s fine,” Minghao shrugs, giving a soft smile to the other boy. He looks up at the grey sky and takes in a deep breath to clear his head of the dull ache that’s returned, and hopes the rain doesn’t start up again. It smells damp and cold, but they still need to walk all the way back home. “I’ll study harder next time, Jun. Don’t worry about it. I just studied the wrong thing for the test this time.”

Minghao looks back over at Junhui and he can see the frown on Junhui’s features. He can tell Junhui knows that the excuse about studying the wrong thing is bullshit, and the older boy looks more concerned then that time Minghao face planted into the sidewalk (the tree branch came out of nowhere, he swears). Minghao hates it, and he reaches over to touch the older boy’s arm, a frown tugging on his lips too. He feels guilty to say the least, and there’s something making his chest feel tight when Junhui sighs and takes both of Minghao’s hands in his.

“I’m more worried about you than your score, Minghao.” The brunet says, and Minghao quickly flashes a reassuring smile, pulling his hands back gently and starting off down the road. The grass on the ground glistening with droplets of water, reflecting what little light has managed to peek through the clouds. The blond hears the other boy sigh and start walking again, quickly falling into step beside him. “Your grades have been getting worse since the end of last year, are you alright?”

“I know, and I’m fine. I promise, Junhui.” Minghao clarifies, readjusting the bag on his back again and looking over at the concerned brunet, his brows furrowed and lips still curved downwards. The younger boy is desperate to make him worry less, he doesn’t want Junhui to think about it too much. He knows he can do it. He can get his grades up. Minghao gives another reassuring smile and slides his hand into Junhui’s, intertwining their fingers and giving a gentle squeeze.

The older boy seems to get the message at that. ' _Trust me_ ,' it says, and Junhui seems to hesitate for a moment as the two lock gazes. Minghao’s pleading, so Junhui gives a curt nod before returning the smile, and Minghao has the undeniable urge to lean in and kiss him, regardless of the fact that someone could see them - he’s almost certain that Junhui would probably push him away though - there’s still students around - but suddenly there’s a drop of water on Minghao’s neck. Then two.

 _Shit_ , Minghao thinks because _god_ it was going to rain again and he really didn’t want to get wet right now. Ever, for that matter, especially in his school uniform because this was basically his only one. He needed to wear it tomorrow and he wasn’t going without his jumper under any circumstances. Junhui can feel the water droplets too apparently, because he looks up and groans, running a hand through his hair and before they know it, it’s bucketing down, thunder crashing loudly overhead and lightning flashing in the distance.

Minghao starts running home, pulling Junhui with him, fingers still interlocked and they’re laughing together as the older boy lags behind. Minghao pulls him harder, and there’s water pouring over them, getting in their eyes, making their hair stick messily to their foreheads. It’s a desperate rush to get to Minghao’s house before everything is too saturated, but it’s probably too late already; a hopeless cause.

They get there within a few minutes of nonstop running, but by then, they’re both completely drenched. Junhui is breathless, resting his forehead against the brick wall next to Minghao’s door, wiping water from his eyes as the younger boy gasps for breath, thighs burning, and fumbles with the keys. The blond manages to unlock the door after a good two minutes, and they stumble inside, the warm, musty, familiar smell of home enveloping them, and Minghao thinks he might fall flat on his ass because it’s so overwhelming.

Minghao slams the door shut and both of them are desperately shrugging off soaked bags and groaning as they toe off damp shoes and socks. A breathy laugh leaves Minghao’s blueish lips when one of Junhui’s shoes goes flying across the tiled floor, hitting the base of Minghao’s old brown couch. He hears Junhui swearing under his breath as he quickly and carefully treks over the carpet to retrieve his shoe, and Minghao finds himself laughing a little more. He takes the moment to pull the wet piece of paper from his sleeve and quickly shove it into a pocket in his backpack.

“You’re dumb.” Minghao tells him, voice laced with amusement and he means it with the utmost love and respect, really. Junhui just scoffs, picking up his shoe before scuttling over to the kitchen, where there’s beige tiles on the floor and no chances of leaving wet stains on the cream coloured carpet.

“I’m not dumb.” The older boy counters indignantly, standing up straight as he stretches, and he nearly hits the overhead lights with his hands, making Minghao wince. The younger boy catches the glint in the other’s eye and he can _see_ where this is going. He doesn’t like it, but he basically handed it to Junhui on a silver platter, so he’s not surprised, although mildly disgusted when the older boy continues. “I’m Junhui.”

“Oh my _God_ ,” Minghao groans, cringing, but he can’t help but let out an amused laugh too as Junhui wiggles his brows. “You did not.”

“I had to,” the older boy shrugs and smiles brightly, yet his teeth are chattering, and Minghao suddenly remembers that they’re both drenched and freezing. He also needs to wear his clothes tomorrow and his shoes and socks are going to be a horror to try and dry within that span of time. The look of distress must’ve been obvious because Junhui pipes up again, arms wrapped around himself in an attempt to stay warm. “Should we start to dry our shoes or something?” Minghao just nods and picks up his sneakers before getting to work.

It takes about ten minutes of fumbling and careful steps, but they’re done earlier than expected, shivering and still _extremely_ cold. “My mum is going to kill me,” Minghao manages to breathe out once their socks and shoes have been hung up on a string over the heater. Their socks had been wrung out over the pot plants and Minghao made a silent prayer that their feet weren’t _that_ horrible because he really didn’t want to kill the small shrubs his mother loved so dearly. They’d scrubbed their hands in the sink with soap thoroughly afterwards, and now were both standing in the kitchen, still dripping gross puddles of rainwater onto the tiles as to not track damp patches to any other part of the house.

The older boy just shrugs and shakes his head in response. “She loves you too much to kill you, Minghao.” Junhui is shivering slightly, yet not as much as Minghao is, and the younger boy wonders how the other is able to tolerate the temperature and dripping wet clothes better than he can. “I think maybe changing might be a nice idea though.”

Minghao doesn’t have the heart or the subsequent amount of warmth that it takes to laugh right now, so he just nods in agreement, desperate to not feel like he’s about to get hypothermia or something. He grabs Junhui’s arm, which is surprisingly warm in his cold fingers, and drags him into his bathroom (dragging has seemed to become sort of a habit), shutting the door behind. The room is not what you’d call immaculately clean, but the tiles are still glaringly white and the mould growing in the corners isn’t too obvious.

Junhui looks a little confused at first when Minghao pulls out a fresh towel from the linen cupboard and points to the strawberry body wash, loofah, and floral scented shampoo and conditioner in the small cubicle. Minghao suddenly feels _extremely_ self conscious because somehow, the products he uses are a _little_ more feminine than he’d like to admit; he’s not too sure if he’s okay with Junhui knowing about it. Sure, Junhui’s been over countless times, but he’d never actually _showered_ there since their first year of high school. Minghao had just hoped that Junhui had thought it belonged to his mum when he came over. Minghao tells himself it’s just because he likes smelling nice.

“Go take a shower,” the blond says, handing over the towel and the other boy laughs, taking the soft material and turning it over in his hands. “You’ll feel better. You can use my things too - just put your clothes in the basket and I’ll clean them for you.”

“How about you?” Junhui asks, dropping the towel on top of Minghao’s head, rubbing it over the blond hair which elicits an indignant squawk from an upset Minghao.

“You’re going to get the towel wet!” Minghao wails, pushing Junhui away. Junhui laughs then, and the sound echos in the tiled room. “Besides, I’m fine,” Minghao pokes Junhui’s chest, trying to make a point before he opens the bathroom door again, stepping out. “You’re my guest, and I gotta look out for your wellbeing first.”

“You alright being like that though?” The brunet motions towards Minghao’s clothes, still wet and clinging grossly to his skin. Minghao has to admit that it’s kind of unpleasant and he does hate it, but instead he shrugs in response before closing the door in Junhui’s face.

“I’ll change for now. Just shower quickly so I can go soon.”

It’s about another ten minutes later, when Minghao is sitting on the couch in an oversized plain white tee and old sweatpants, legs tucked underneath him, when Junhui finally steps out of the bathroom. Minghao turns around when he hears the door open and he’s immediately sorry for his life choices because Junhui is basically _naked_ , the towel wrapped around his waist the only thing keeping the younger boy from seeing literally _everything_.

Junhui looks over at Minghao and smiles, teeth showing - and this time, they’re  not chattering. “I always wondered what you used to smell so nice, and now I know.

Minghao barely registers the comment, so he just looks up and blinks before running his eyes over Junhui’s figure. He’s not exactly proud to admit it but he’s seen Junhui topless before, shouldn’t be such a big deal, right? It’s just the fact that he’s _dripping wet_ and _literally steaming_ that maybe just sets something weird off in Minghao’s head. His face is red and he’s beyond flustered because _damn_ \- but It takes about a minute or two more before he realises he’s staring, and he turns back around with a cough into his fist.

“Were you just checking me out?” Junhui asks, and he sounds a little more smug than Minghao would like him to. He turns around and throws a cushion at Junhui’s face.

“Do you make a habit of sniffing me? How do you know what I smell like?” Minghao retorts, but he knows it’s a weak comeback.

Junhui scoffs with a defiant, “no way, that’s weird”, and makes his way over, grabbing the remote before sitting next to Minghao, and the younger boy can definitely say he’s never felt more awkward in his entire life because Junhui is _still_ in just that towel and it’s hanging _dangerously_ low on his hips.

“You gonna go have a shower now?” Junhui mumbles as he flicks the television on, flipping through channels and Minghao scrambles to get up, muttering a soft apology before heading into the bathroom. “By the way,” Junhui calls out, and Minghao pokes his head through the door with a hum in response, “do you have any clothes for me to wear?”

“ _Shit_ ,” Minghao groans, “yeah just go into my room and wear whatever I guess.”

“Are we sharing underwear already? Wow, I didn’t know we were like that.”

“Hey, hands off my underwear Jun.” Junhui seems to laugh at the defensive exclamation and Minghao lets out an exasperated sigh, stalking into his bedroom and pulling out a pair of unused, new - and frankly, too big - boxers, flinging them at his best friend. “Use those, and go find something else to wear with them. Don’t be so gross about it.”

He hears Junhui’s loud laughter even when he’s shut the door, sighing as he leans against the wall. He guesses that hot chocolate will have to wait.

* * *

“Why don’t we just get takeout again?”

“Because we got takeout the last couple of times. Don’t complain, Minghao. I’m willingly cooking food for you, and you should be thankful.”

Minghao groans for probably the hundredth time that day, he’s pretty sure, and it’s getting overly repetitive. He’s sitting on the marble kitchen countertop next to the stove, and if his mother was home, she’d tell him to get off. Today though, it’s Junhui who’s slaving away behind the stove, tossing a haphazardly put together assortment of chopped vegetables, seasoning and rice in an old shallow frying pan Minghao had to dig out from the back of the cupboard. He _does_ have to admit it smells nice though - like pepper and herbs and soy sauce.

After Minghao had stepped out of the shower and gotten dressed - a pullover black hoodie with some comfortable ripped jeans - he’d found Junhui already on the floor of his living room, books out and dressed in a white graphic tee (which was grossly oversized when Minghao wore it, but somehow, it fitted Junhui nicely) and what Minghao recognised as his favourite sweatpants that fit maybe a little too tightly on Junhui’s legs. Not that Minghao minded too much. He’d borrowed countless things from Junhui and sweatpants stealing wasn’t on his list of ‘ _things to make sure Junhui regrets_ ’. He didn’t intend for it to be put on the list any time soon either.

They’d studied for a solid hour and a half after that, Minghao pulling his books out of his bag reluctantly because he didn’t _know_ the bags were so water resistant (probably to prevent students using the ‘ _my homework got wet_ ’ excuse he was so sure he’d be spouting the next day). He’d worked on his math assignment until Junhui disappeared into the kitchen, complaining that he was hungry, and Minghao heard something akin to the cutting of vegetables. The sound had attracted the boy like a hungry seagull to a soggy french fry, and soon, Junhui had to fend off the boy with a wooden spoon or there wouldn’t have been enough carrot in the fried rice.

“You don’t happen to have any eggs, do you?” Junhui asks, scooping some of the rice and vegetables from the pan into a spoon before turning to Minghao, holding the silver utensil up to the younger boy’s lips, hand underneath to catch anything that might fall off. “One’s that aren’t expired would be preferred.”

Minghao closes his lips around the spoon and pulls away, muttering a muffled “wait, let me check,” before he begins to chew. He jumps off the countertop, making his way over to the fridge, opening the door and pulling out a carton of a dozen eggs. Still full. Probably still about a week before expiration.

“How is the rice so far?” The brunet calls out, and Minghao grunts a response before slamming the fridge door closed. He slides the carton of eggs over to Junhui before picking up the bottle of soy sauce and pouring a little more in. Junhui laughs at that, and Minghao just shrugs, grabbing an egg from the pack and cracking it open on the edge of the pan before letting it drop in. The sizzling sound the egg makes when it makes contact with the hot pan is oddly satisfying, and Minghao hoists himself back up to sit on the counter again.

“It’s nice,” Minghao says matter-of-factly, grinning a little too much in terms of appropriateness, but Junhui shakes his head, laughs like he always does and stirs the egg and soy sauce into the fried rice.

“Thanks for that in depth opinion.”

“I do my best.”

Minghao ends up being the one to set the plates and cutlery on the table - grabbing glasses of water while Junhui spoons the rice onto the plates and sets the excess aside on a separate plate. He finds it oddly domestic of them and it triggers something in the back of his mind that, _hey, maybe it would be nice if this happened on a regular basis_. He pushes the thought away after a few moments of feeling a little disturbed with himself, cheeks flushing a rosy hue from embarrassment and it’s times like this he’s thankful that Junhui can’t read minds or anything.

Minghao slides into his usual seat, an old, simple wooden chair with legs that could probably break, and a worn out cushion on the seat. The whole set of chairs were like that - very much lived in - but it was that fact that made them so comfortable and familiar. It was part of his home. Junhui seats himself next to Minghao, pulling his plate towards him, the sound of the porcelain against the wooden table eliciting a low rumble from Minghao’s stomach. Junhui chuckles and turns to the blond with a grin, taking his spoon to scoop up some fried rice off his own plate and bring it to Minghao’s lips like he’d done before. The younger boy laughs as he takes the spoon into his mouth, chewing slowly after Junhui had pulled the spoon back.

The brunet tilts his head as he waits for Minghao to finish. It doesn’t take long because Minghao is honestly _starving_ , and Junhui pipes up once Minghao turns to face him. “How is it now?” His eyes are searching Minghao’s for any sign of distaste - like he could _actually_ cook a bad meal - and it makes Minghao a little sad.

Minghao nods, throws him a thumbs up and a grin because Junhui might need a little more encouragement than he wants to admit. “You’re improving,” he says, and the smile that spreads across Junhui’s features at that makes his cheeks feel a little warm and his chest feel a little tight.

They eat in a comfortable silence, Junhui’s hand resting on Minghao’s thigh and Minghao’s foot occasionally connecting with Junhui’s leg as he swings them underneath the table. Junhui eventually kicks back after Minghao finishes eating, and they share a laugh. It’s nice, Minghao thinks as he runs the water over the dirty dishes. He wouldn’t openly admit it, but he definitely preferred this over eating takeout again - even if cooking meant they had to wash the dishes.

It’s an efficient system of Minghao washing and Junhui drying and it doesn’t take more than five minutes before everything is dried and put away. Junhui suggests studying again but Minghao whines and begs to go for a walk even though the rain has started back up again. It’s not as bad this time, so Junhui agrees, pulling a smiling Minghao out the front door with a large umbrella in tow, slipping his feet into a pair of Minghao’s shoes, and the blond does the same.

Minghao manages to grab two jackets - the only jackets on the rack beside the door - before he exists and locks the door behind him. He walks out onto the porch, and Junhui is standing there, umbrella in hand, looking out over Minghao’s front yard. The rain is lighter but the droplets that fall are still making the flowers bend once they hit the petals, and the petals that fall are almost the same colour as the setting sun, hidden behind gray clouds and distant thunder.

Minghao reaches up and wraps the biggest coat of the two around Junhui’s shoulders. It’s big and fluffy, and probably belongs to his dad, and he honestly wants to wear it himself, but it would’ve probably eaten him alive within a matter of seconds. It’s still too big for Junhui though - and it makes the taller boy look small when he’s enveloped in the fluffy brown material.

Junhui seems a little surprised at first at the sudden appearance of a coat on his shoulders, turning around to face Minghao beside him. He frowns when his eyes catch the sorry excuse for a jacket that Minghao is carrying in his arms. The fabric is a thin royal blue cotton, that could only really work as a fashion piece in the early fall. Minghao catches the distasteful look Junhui gives his jacket, prompting him to hold onto the material a little tighter.

“You’re not seriously going to wear that are you?” Junhui says, looking up into Minghao’s wide brown eyes. The wind has died down and nobody is out, the only sound besides their breathing being the rain hitting the darkened bitumen and fallen leaves. Minghao shrugs, trying to shove his arm into one of the sleeves before he remembers he was wearing a hoodie, and the thick sleeve couldn’t go through no matter how much he wants it to. He groans when he realises his mistake.

“It’s the only other one,” Minghao mutters bitterly. Junhui is laughing at him silently, sharp eyes crinkled and lips firmly pressed together, yet curved up as his shoulders shake. It makes Minghao’s face burn in embarrassment. “Shut up,” he says as he hides his face in the soft fabric of the jacket he’s regretting ever taking, and _god_ he should’ve kept that coat he gave to Junhui for himself because now, Junhui has it and Minghao is _sure_ he’s probably going to freeze to death.

He feels a warm hand on his forearm, pulling his own hands away from his face and he looks up at Junhui’s still smiling face. Minghao scrunches his nose when Junhui pulls him in, but he can’t deny the way his heart flutters when Junhui throws one of the jacket’s shoulders over his own. Junhui pulls Minghao close - so they’re both huddled inside the one jacket, and this time, it’s Minghao’s turn to laugh.

“We could’ve just swapped, y’know?” Minghao teases, and Junhui scoffs, turning away and opening the umbrella as they step out. It was a plain umbrella - clear plastic and cheaply made - but big enough for the both of them.

“I’m not wearing that god awful thing. _I’d_ probably freeze instead.” Junhui gripes as they step out underneath the rain, droplets hitting the plastic to make a loud, yet strangely pleasant sound. Minghao just hums in response, reaching out to hold the umbrella with Junhui so they could walk next to each other, and they fall into step in comfortable silence, sharing an umbrella and letting the sound of rain and the deep purple of the sunset envelop them.

The soft pitter patter of rain against the umbrella stays constant as they walk, and there’s soft splashes when their shoes hit the ground. Junhui’s body is warm next to Minghao’s; comforting, and he finds himself leaning closer into the subtle touch of the older boy’s fingers brushing against his own. They walk past houses, parks, statues - and it’s all so familiar that he feels at ease even when the sky grows dark.

Minghao loses track of time easily, and only realises it’s a little too late when he rounds the corner to his street and the lights in people’s houses are starting to be turned off. He frowns and looks up at Junhui, the taller boy still walking silently next to him, pinky hooked around his own as they hold the umbrella, breath coming out in steamy puffs. The umbrella casts an odd shadow on his face, and Minghao finds himself staring a little too long.

Junhui probably sees him from his peripheral, and the brunet pauses, looking over at Minghao with curious eyes and dark bags. Minghao stops too, and it’s just the two of them there, standing next to each other in the abandoned street. It’s probably the fact that they’ve gone hours without speaking - with nothing but shoulders bumping and fingers hooked around another’s - that makes Minghao reach up to ghost his fingertips over the darkening circles underneath Junhui’s eyes.

“You look tired,” Minghao whispers quietly, lips curved into a sad smile. His eyes follow the tracing of his fingertips over Junhui’s features, feeling the older boy’s hot breath tickle on his palm. “When did you go to sleep last night?”

Junhui lets out a sigh, lets his eyes wander across Minghao’s delicate features and wide eyes. “Late,” he mutters back, “but I had to study for another test. Maths.”

“You’re an idiot,” Minghao laughs quietly, breathy puffs of air dissipating into the night. He pulls his hand back, rests it on Junhui’s chest and he can feel the warmth seeping through the shirt he’s wearing, so he lets it stay there. It must look odd, he thinks. Two boys wrapped in one jacket standing in the middle of the road under an umbrella. Then again, it could look rather beautiful.

“I’m not the one failing tests,” Junhui counters, voice still nothing more than a gentle whisper, barely audible over the soft pitter patter of rain. Minghao groans loudly though, more than a little frustrated and he turns back around, facing away from Junhui and moving his hand on the umbrella so his pinky was no longer connected to the other’s.

“Did you have to bring that up?” Minghao grouses, wanting to start walking again but Junhui doesn’t let him, holding the umbrella steady as a hand reaches out to grab Minghao’s arm. The jacket nearly falls off the both of them and Junhui manages to rearrange it on time, pulling Minghao back in close to his side and securing the jacket firmly around the both of them.

“Look, I’m just worried about you,” Junhui insists, and he lets go of Minghao with a soft sigh, fingers trailing up to instead cup Minghao’s face. Minghao finds himself leaning into the touch as Junhui moves him so he faces the older boy again, eyes downcast. “You were doing so well until the end of last year - you even did better than me before. What happened?”

Minghao looks up into Junhui’s eyes. He’s searching for something there; something that Junhui might have. Minghao doesn’t seem have the answer himself, and Junhui always has the answer to whatever he’s looking for. Just maybe not this time. He shrugs, and the smile from before comes back. It’s sad and desperate, but Minghao isn’t too sure of what else to do. His hand reaches out to take Junhui’s face in his hands too, but it falls short; fingers barely touching Junhui’s cheek before they fall back to his side. Minghao is at a complete loss. The wind is starting to pick up, and it makes his hair whip around his face. He hardly notices it when Junhui’s thumb traces over his own dark circles.

“Hey,” Junhui calls when Minghao doesn’t answer, and the younger boy looks back into his eyes. He thinks Junhui might ask him again; his heart is beating fast, dreading this. He catches Junhui’s eyes flickering to his lips though, and he knows what he wants, chuckling softly as the brunet leans in. Minghao leans in too, but presses a finger to Junhui’s lips when he’s barely an inch away. Minghao can feel the other boy’s breath on his lips.

“Jun, not here oh my _God_ ,” Minghao laughs breathily, leaning his forehead against Junhui’s as the older boy whines. He’s honestly relieved in a way, but he’s not sure if a kiss is what he wants right now. Maybe it’s what he needs.

“ _Please_ ,“ Junhui pleads, leaning in a little more, “my lips a really cold and I’m going to get frostbite or something.”

Minghao curves his lips into an amused grin, moving his hand away only to bring it back, swiping his thumb over Junhui’s lips. They’re warm - that liar - but awfully dry, and he sucks in a breath when Junhui’s tongue darts out to lick the pad of his finger. “They _are_ turning a little bit blue,” Minghao admits quietly, and he nearly snorts when Junhui’s eyes widen just a little.

“Seriously?” Junhui asks. The blond just leans in a little more, moving his hand away and shakes his head.

“No,” Minghao whispers against Junhui’s lips. He feels his chest tighten and the butterflies in his stomach feel like they’re spreading into his veins. “Besides, you can’t get frostbite. It’s not even that cold.” He smiles again at that, and leans up to press a lingering kiss on Junhui’s lips nonetheless, placing a hand on the nape of his neck to pull him in a little more. Minghao thinks that maybe the butterflies in Junhui’s stomach might be doing the same.

The shit eating grin that spreads across the older boy’s face when Minghao pulls away makes the blond want to maybe punch him square in the jaw or maybe kiss him some more. Minghao doesn’t turn back around though, and he keeps his eyes focused on the sharp curve of Junhui’s thin lips; how he loves it when he smiles like that. He’d never admit that to anyone though. Especially Junhui.

“You kissed me anyway,” Junhui says, and Minghao can’t help it when he bursts out into a loud bark of laughter, smacking Junhui’s chest as he continues to look at him with that ridiculous grin.

“Wouldn’t want you to get frostbite now, would I?” Minghao shrugs, and the smile on his own face is wide. “Y’know. Just in case.”

“Right,” Junhui smiles, “just in case.” The brunet leans in again, and Minghao meets him halfway, Junhui’s fingers pressing softly into the flesh on Minghao’s waist while rain falls around their feet. They stay like that for a while, fingers linking again under the umbrella and hands running up arms. Minghao almost forgets where they are until he hears a voice coming from a nearby house and he internally panics.

“Wait,” Minghao mumbles as he pulls away, cheeks flushed warm despite the cold. He turns around to look behind him and he can see the silhouettes in the house. There’s people talking, maybe arguing, and he doesn’t want anyone to see this. Junhui has his eyebrow raised when Minghao turns back around to face him, and the blond gives him a short kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling him to walk next to him again. This time, Junhui doesn’t stop him.

It takes about a minute to walk back to the house, Junhui stealing brief kisses when he can the whole way back. By the time Minghao has the keys in his hand, unlocking the door and slipping off shoes, Junhui has his lips attached to Minghao’s neck, sucking marks onto the skin behind his ear. He tells Junhui to put the umbrella away because it’s poking him in the side and Junhui groans as he removes himself from Minghao for a moment while he closes the umbrella.

Minghao manages to get the door unlocked with some difficulty (thanks to Junhui’s lips on his neck), and he’s immediately pressed against the wall inside, jacket falling to the ground and umbrella being clumsily tossed to the side in haste. The door is kicked shut, and Minghao’s fingers find their way into Junhui’s mess of hair, tugging on the strands as Junhui’s hands run down his sides. Minghao shivers, pulling Junhui up from where his lips are on his jaw. Their eyes lock for a moment, and Minghao knows he needs this. Junhui knows it too, probably, and their lips connect, open mouthed and messy, eyes fluttering shut - but it’s everything Minghao wants, _needs_ , and maybe even a little bit more.

He licks into Junhui’s mouth, nails scratching at the brunet’s scalp and he elicits a small moan from the older boy, who runs his hands down to Minghao’s backside, giving a firm squeeze. Minghao whines into Junhui’s mouth, legs quickly wrapping around Junhui’s waist when he lifts him up, and the kiss is a little more frantic than usual. Minghao leans into Junhui, blond hair curtaining his face and he can feel his heart thumping in his chest; hard enough to make his head feel a little light.

Junhui manages to blindly stumble into the living room, accidentally bumping Minghao up against walls on the way, the younger boy grunting against Junhui’s lips whenever his shoulder would connect with something hard. They make it to the couch eventually, and Minghao breaks the kiss to suck in a breath. Both their chests are heaving and Junhui lifts Minghao up a little more, looking up at him as they just _breathe_ because _god_ , Minghao _really_ needed that.

Junhui basically throws Minghao down on the worn out brown couch he’d accidentally thrown his shoe at earlier, and the younger boy lets out a huff as his back hits the soft material. Minghao shuffles back, sitting up a little and making a little more room before pulling Junhui down on top of him; leaning up to take his lips again. Junhui straddles Minghao’s hips, hands trailing up to cup the blond’s face in his hands and they kiss like that. It’s a little calmer, less heated than before, and it allows Minghao to breathe in, take in how Junhui’s hands feel so warm.

Minghao breaks the kiss again, pulling away to let out a breathless laugh. Junhui starts kissing down his neck, hands sneaking under the hoodie, and Minghao inhales sharply, says, “ _fuck_ ,” when Junhui bites down on his collarbone, hands fisting the soft brown hair. “You smell like me,” Minghao breathes, and he’s completely wrecked, lips bruised and a little swollen, hair a mess and clothes all over the place - but he doesn’t really care. “It’s fucking weird.”

It’s Junhui’s turn to laugh, Minghao finding the familiar sound pleasant; the vibrations resonating throughout the younger boy’s body as slender hands make their way down to play with the hem of Junhui’s shirt. “You were the one accusing me of sniffing you before,” Junhui grouses, his voice is low, muttered against skin and Minghao can’t help it when he laughs again, pulling Junhui’s shirt up and over his head before dragging him back in for another kiss, both their lips curved into a smile.

Junhui kisses back messily, lips and tongues straying a little. It makes Minghao groan softly against Junhui’s lips, pulling himself closer to the warmth and just _everything_. Minghao's hands are busy roaming across the vast expanse of Junhui's back, and he lets his nails drag down the taut muscle and tanned skin, fingers skittering over familiar dips and curves. He can feel Junhui growing hard between his legs, but he wants to push it; see how far he can go, so he pulls back from the kiss, teeth tugging on Junhui's bottom lip with a lewd moan. Minghao smirks when he feels Junhui just a little more.

“The hell,” Junhui mumbles when Minghao’s teeth release his lip. It’s swollen now; pink and a little bruised. Minghao finds it satisfying to look at. The younger boy grins, shrugs as he feels Junhui’s hands slip inside his hoodie, pulling it off his slim body. Minghao pulls Junhui back in once the cold air hits his skin, holding the older boy close. It’s skin on skin and that in itself is awfully intimate; the blond moving back a little more to lay down on the sofa, pulling the older boy with him.

Junhui lays kisses down Minghao’s chest, biting new marks next to old ones, Minghao trembling under the touch of fingers down his stomach. He arches his back with a choked cry when Junhui takes a nipple between his teeth and flicks a tongue over the bud because he was _not_ expecting that. Minghao tugs his hair hard, pulling him away with a hiss. “Piss off,” he growls, digging his nails into Junhui’s scalp. The older boy just laughs, presses a kiss to the area and moves back up to lick over Minghao’s lips.

Minghao lets Junhui take him to a place where he’ll forget everything; eyes closed, bodies pressed together, hands roaming across bare skin. He doesn’t want to be pitied today; doesn’t want Junhui to brush his fingers across his cheeks, doesn’t want to be told he’s beautiful. He wants to _feel_ something without having to think. Today, Minghao just wants to forget. And Junhui knows.

They kiss lazily as the wind starts to howl outside, thunder rumbling in the distance. Minghao runs his hands over Junhui’s abs when the older boy pulls away with a breathless chuckle. Junhui runs his hands down to Minghao’s waist, down his hips and thighs. Junhui drags his eyes over Minghao’s figure. There’s that look again in his eyes; Minghao isn’t quite sure of it yet, but they’re both breathless, chests heaving. Minghao pushes Junhui off when he stares too long, his cheeks burning. Minghao can feel himself straining at the zipper on his jeans. He sees Junhui through those sweatpants too, and it’s so glaringly obvious because they’re so _tight_ around his thighs, so of course, Junhui notices it too.

Junhui settles himself down on the couch with a huff while Minghao scrambles to sit up; trembling and breath ragged. He shuffles next to Junhui, leans his head on the brunet’s shoulder to take in a breath, and Junhui’s fingers find their way into his hair, brushing through the light coloured locks as the boy closes his eyes.

Minghao opens his eyes after a minute, and they immediately focus on Junhui’s crotch because it’s so _obvious_ and _there_ and _distracting_. The younger boy groans as he sits up, pressing a small kiss to Junhui’s jawline. “I’m sorry,” he whispers against Junhui’s neck, and the older boy just shakes his head with a hum, “do you want to take care of that in the bathroom?”

Junhui sighs, presses his lips to Minghao’s forehead and wraps an arm around the younger boy’s waist, pulling him closer. “No,” he mutters into Minghao’s hair, “I can deal with it.”

Minghao growls a little, tongue darting out to lick his lips, and he notes how he still tastes like Junhui. “I can’t,” he mumbles under his breath. Junhui laughs breathily, nuzzling his nose against the blond hair.

“You can go, I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not fine with _you_ , Jun, not me.”

The brunet lets out a defeated sigh, agreeing with a reluctant nod. Minghao smiles, leans up to press his lips against Junhui’s one last time.

“Come here,” Minghao grumbles as he stumbles to his feet, holding out a hand for Junhui to take, and the other boy takes it without question or hesitation. Minghao pulls him over to the bathroom, picking up their discarded clothing on the way; opening the door and pushing Junhui in with his graphic tee and a small laugh. “Don’t fuck up my shirt,” Minghao says, pointing to the toilet paper on the roll. “Use that.”

Junhui chuckles, shutting the door behind him. “Don’t worry,” he assures with a soft smile, “I know.”

Minghao gives him a smile as the door shuts, and he drags himself down the hall into his own room, cheeks still flushed and jeans still uncomfortably tight. He makes it to his bed, grabs a few tissues from his bedside table, and lays down on the green bed sheets. He closes his eyes, and wishes it all away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I love Wen Junhui let it be known to the world.**
> 
> * * *
> 
>  This 1st chapter is proudly sponsored by lots of instant ramyeon,Twinings Extra Strength English Breakfast Tea & copious amounts of liquorice. 
> 
> * * *
> 
> I wanna keep this short now lmao but hey guys. You made it this far, I thank you.  
>  I really wanted to get this first chapter out before my 18th and I managed to scrape by on the skin on my fucking teeth because my birthday is literally tomorrow come @ me.  
>    
>  Please leave some constructive criticism, comments, questions, advice, words of encouragement, your thoughts, ~~hate mail~~ , literally anything! I highly encourage it! I'd love to improve my writing and if you could help me do that, it would be amazing (for you too so you don't have to suffer).
> 
> I honestly had no idea how I was going to tackle this honestly just because of the no dialogue thing I had going on previously. I suck at witty dialogue and I'm just so miserable about this whole chapter right now I can't write. I'm gross I know.
> 
> Thank so much though guys, remember to leave some constructive criticism down below so I don't suck this bad next time xoxo.
> 
>  


	2. bend and break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_home_ **   
>  _/həʊm/_
> 
> _adjective_
> 
> **2.** deep; to the heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I took forever to update this but I got distracted by plot bunnies and life (no but really a lot of shit has happened. This past month of being 18 has been insane let me tell ya).
> 
> Here it (finally) is though! Thank you for all the sweet birthday wishes + comments for last chapter it means a tonne c: I'm so sorry I took forever asdfghjkl I feel really bad but I promise not to take so long next time, ahahaha.
> 
> Also, nothing happens in this chapter.

Minghao wakes up to an unfamiliar alarm, cold ears, head full of sand, and a sore neck. He’s slightly confused at first because he’s not in his own bed, he’s sore, and the alarm that’s going off is annoyingly generic - and also, not his. It takes him a moment after he hears a loud groan from beneath him to realise that _oh_ , Junhui was there too, and they might've been on the couch the whole night. There’s a light weight on top of him - probably a blanket - and he’s so _warm_ from the neck down that he just wants to crawl under the covers completely and sleep some more.

He feels Junhui stretch and reach over somewhere before the alarm stops, and he lets out a sigh of relief when the horribly loud alarm is finally silenced because he’s not really quite sure how much longer he was going to be able to put up with it. Minghao feels a hand brushing through his hair, soft and gentle, and it’s so _comforting_ and makes him want to sleep again so _badly_ \- but he knows he can't because it’s a school day and _oh God. School._

The thought hits him over the head like a bad day at the batting cages (which he’s sadly experienced a couple times before), and he’s internally panicking as he scrunches his face, but really, he’s too lazy to do anything drastic about it. It’s an intense struggle, but Minghao manages to open his eyes a little with a whine, before the blindingly bright light floods in from the windows and into his eyes. He shuts them quickly and covers his face with his hands, letting out a pained groan.

He hears Junhui laughing softly from somewhere near the top of his head; it makes him want to smother the brunet with his hand or a pillow or _something_ because he just wants to _sleep_. Junhui manages to stop laughing for a while and everything just settles into quiet breathing, rustling trees and birds chirping outside. The atmosphere has become so _relaxing_ , and Minghao is _so_ _close_ to falling asleep again - and he _really_ wants to, but Junhui shifts, probably trying to get up, and Minghao’s attempts of catching just another five minutes are lost. The blond boy whines loudly, clinging to the shirt Junhui is wearing - the same graphic tee from yesterday - keeping the brunet there underneath him as he buries his face into the comfortable warmth of the other boy’s broad chest.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Junhui grumbles, voice laced with sleep and almost a whole octave deeper than usual. Minghao keens when the sound reaches his ears and he unconsciously burrows deeper into Junhui’s warmth. Minghao feels so safe and comfortable even though he’s still a little sore, and Junhui’s legs are on either side and he’s settled neatly in-between (which is slightly uncomfortable because of how _bony_ the other boy is, surprisingly), he’s perfectly content as is.

Minghao snuggles up to Junhui a little more and he’s suddenly aware of the gross wet patch that’s pressed up against his cheek. It’s completely soaked all the way into Junhui’s shirt, and it’s a little slimy and extremely disgusting. He pulls away, cringing at the feeling of _wet_ on his cheek and he finally manages to open his eyes for good, squinting at Junhui through the rays of sunlight that’s shining right into his face.

“I’m sorry,” Minghao manages to mumble, pushing himself up clumsily - an elbow digging into Junhui’s side and a knee poking Junhui’s thigh as he tries to get off the couch, still groggy. Junhui lets out a loud grunt as Minghao’s knees and elbows dig into his flesh, probably causing bruises and marks and _possibly_ breaking a rib or two. Minghao somehow gets half way up before he collapses back onto Junhui’s chest, the older boy pulling him back down into the familiar feeling of the fluffy blanket around him.

Junhui sighs, moves Minghao a little on his chest before he’s comfortable, and nuzzles his nose into Minghao’s messed up hair. Minghao can feel Junhui take in a deep breath; it makes him a little self conscious about the state his hair is in, but he tries to ignore it despite his flushed cheeks. “There’s no need to be sorry,” Junhui murmurs dazedly into his hair, clearing his throat when his voice catches, “what are you apologising for anyways?”

The blond coughs a little. “I drooled on your shirt again,” Minghao states sleepily, reaching up lazily to rub at his eyes and cover his mouth when he yawns. He hopes Junhui isn’t close enough to smell his gross morning breath, so he turns away a little as to not breathe all over his face.

“Well,” Junhui teases as he’s brushing his fingers through Minghao’s hair again. Minghao wants to melt into the touch but he’s a little gross from sleeping and still slightly embarrassed about the whole drooling thing. “Technically, it’s _your_ shirt.”

Minghao rolls his eyes. “ _Technically_ ,” he says, still a little skeptical, and he’s sure Junhui isn’t pleased about the drool but it’s definitely better then that time Minghao sneezed all over him when he was sick. Really though, Junhui _does_ have a point, so he just shrugs with another yawn and smacks Junhui’s hand away before making another (and a much more successful) attempt at getting up off the couch. This time, it’s Junhui who’s whining about it and reaching out to cling to Minghao’s hoodie.

The lanky blonde smacks Junhui’s hands away and brushes himself off. “Shit,” Minghao whispers to himself when he’s standing up, stretching lazily and looking over at Junhui, holding out a hand for him to take. Junhui’s brows are scrunched together in discomfort as he tries his best to get up too, pulling on Minghao’s arm. It’s weird - because Junhui usually gets up pretty quickly, but considering Minghao slept on top of him the whole night, he thinks that maybe Junhui is probably more sore than _he_ is, but seemingly doing quite alright. Minghao would’ve smiled at that too, because he finds it a little adorable, but his mind is starting to think about things and he’s a little nervous at the particular thought that enters his mind.

“Did my mum see us when she came home?” Minghao’s eyes dart around the room and he takes his bottom lip nervously between his teeth. So many things he’s unnecessarily thinking about this early in the day was _not_ what he wanted, and he’s still a little dazed about how exactly he managed to fall asleep on Junhui last night. The last thing he remembers is watching some late night cartoon, and the last thing he _needs_ is his mum getting the wrong idea and asking him about it when she corners him later.

“Yeah, she saw,” Junhui confirms nonchalantly, just before he yawns too - probably catching it from Minghao. The younger boy swears his heart skips a beat when he hears the answer, but Junhui continues without so much as a blink, “I woke up when she got back from work. It was late so I just told her I didn’t want to wake you when you fell asleep.”

The younger boy lets out a sigh of relief before asking another question, definitely more relaxed this time, but still concerned. “She bought it?” Junhui just responds with a nod, finally letting go of Minghao’s hand once he’s lifted himself up. “And she gave us the blanket?”

“Yeah,” the brunet murmurs as stretches his arms with an indignant grunt, his brown hair a mess atop his head falling over his eyes and making him look kind of really hot. “She hung up our uniforms too,” Junhui says, “your mum’s a saint.”

“She really is,” Minghao agrees, smiling as he glances over in the direction of his parents’ bedroom door down the hall. He knew working the night shift is hard on his mum, but somehow, she manages to still clean up after Minghao’s mess every time. He doesn’t know how she does it. “Did she eat?” Minghao continues to ask, resting his hands on his hips as he waits for Junhui’s answer, eyeing the kitchen.

Junhui laughs at the onslaught of questions and runs a hand through his hair to neaten it a little. It doesn’t really do too much, and Minghao is a very thankful that the bed hair is so reluctant. “She ate the fried rice I put aside for her, don’t worry about that. She was talking to your dad on the phone before I fell asleep.”

Minghao is tempted to ask what they were talking about, but he’s not sure if he wants to know. He’s not sure if the teacher e-mailed his parents yet, and he honestly doesn’t want to hear them telling him to clean up his act while he still can because he _knows_ he’s in a fucked up position - he’s just got to work through it himself or he’d never learn anything.

Minghao settles for dragging himself into the kitchen and pulling a box of cornflakes out of the cupboard, setting it on the table. Junhui has already sit down next to Minghao’s usual chair (and _that_ chair has become Junhui’s usual, he guesses) by the time the younger boy puts down the milk and the various assortments of eating utensils, pulling the chair up to the table and reaching for the cornflakes, to which Minghao scrunches his nose.

“When is he coming back home?” Junhui asks while he’s pouring cornflakes into his bowl; filling it about halfway with the soft tinkling of the cereal hitting the ceramic bowl before he’s satisfied enough with the amount to pour in the milk.

“My dad?” Minghao questions, reaching into another cupboard on the other side of the kitchen to pull out the bread, shuffling over to the toaster and sliding two pieces into the slots. “I’m not too sure.” The room falls into silence, except the occasional clink from Junhui’s spoon hitting the bowl and how it echos in the small kitchen. Minghao waits for his toast, drumming his fingers against the table as he listens to the birds singing faint, tuneless melodies outside. “Your parents know you slept here, right Jun?” The words are half obscured by the sound of the pieces of toast jumping out of the toaster, and Minghao quickly drops them onto a plate to butter them up.

“Yes they know, _god_ , you need to stop worrying about things like that,” Junhui grumbles with a mouth full of milk and cornflakes, “I texted them last night so it’s all fine.” Minghao only gives him a skeptical look as he slides his plate across the table next to Junhui, grabbing a glass on the way to sit down. Junhui waves his spoon at Minghao as he’s sitting down and pouring milk into his glass. “Don’t make me force feed you cornflakes, Minghao.” Junhui frowns as he eyes the buttered pieces of toast and scoffs when Minghao takes a bite. “I don’t know how you can eat that.”

“Hey,” Minghao says pointedly, although muffled by the toast in his mouth, “plain buttered toast is delicious.” Junhui rolls his eyes as he’s taking another spoonful of cornflakes, so Minghao rams the already nearly finished piece of toast into the other boy’s mouth instead.

Minghao ends up pushing Junhui into the bathroom after breakfast with his uniform and a spare toothbrush Minghao stashes for him in his bedside drawer. Minghao needs to wear a scarf to hide the marks on his neck which are so _purple_ and glaring and _way_ too obvious, and by the time they’re ready to bolt out the door, Minghao’s mother is up and making her morning coffee. She looks a little gaunt and tired, makes Minghao worry about her late shifts; but he tries to push aside the thought when he asks her if she’s okay and she assures him she is, pressing kisses to both boy’s cheeks and ushering them out of the house with their bags on their backs, her thick black hair wrapped up in rollers.

The sun is out, but the clouds from the day before still linger in the sky. The air is still cold, and Minghao notes how the air smells like fresh dew hanging off flower petals and leaves and settling on freshly mown blades of grass. Minghao’s hands are stuffed into his pant pockets and his body is pressed up against Junhui’s side. The younger boy can’t get over how _warm_ Junhui always seems to be and how much he feels like he belongs there; tucked comfortably under Junhui’s arm, even if his backpack is weighing him down and his shoes still feel a little soggy.

The walk _to_ school is far less treacherous than the walk _from_ school, and the wind doesn’t pick up too much until they walk into the school grounds and a gust of wind nearly topples Minghao over. Junhui has to steady him, and the snort of laughter he emits earns him a punch in the gut from an upset Minghao. He thinks maybe neither of his parents had gotten the email yet when the chem teacher walks past and scowls at him. His mum didn’t really have enough time to check e-mails and if his dad had gotten it, Minghao wouldn’t know unless he came back from abroad.

Minghao makes sure to shimmy away and make a reasonable amount of distance between he and Junhui when a familiar face walks past and they shuffle through the main doors, making their way to their lockers. Minghao pulls his jumper sleeves down over his hands when he approaches and sees a mass of bodies moving to homeroom and lockers and standing in the middle of hallways while they chat with friends before classes start.

Soonyoung is loitering around the locker area with some younger looking girls when they get inside the warm locker hallway. It’s only really heated by everyone elses body heat, but it’s enough to make it humid and a little gross and stuffy. Minghao is tempted to remove his scarf, but Junhui places a hand over his once he moves to loosen it from his neck, and just as well, or else he would’ve shown everyone his goddamn hickeys from the night before because _somebody_ couldn’t control himself.

“Good morning you two,” Soonyoung chirps from his locker once the girls have dispersed, somehow pushing his backpack into the small space that’s left. His locker is already more of a mess than Minghao’s, somehow, but Soonyoung seems content enough with how it is as his mop of bleached, fried, almost _white_ hair ( _“you’ve gotta stand out while you’re performing!”_ ) disappears behind the locker door. “You guys are looking more messed up than usual,” Soonyoung teases as he turns his head to look at Junhui and Minghao, who’ve moved to their own lockers just a couple away from Soonyoung’s, “what’s the story?”

“Our uniforms got wet,” Minghao states, quickly grabbing the necessary books for biology class and whatever they had afterwards. Conversations with Soonyoung were dangerous, especially when it came to whenever Minghao would show up at school with Junhui, which was already a regular occurrence since they live so close to each other anyways. He really wanted to hurry up and get to homeroom so Soonyoung would sit next to Seokmin like he usually does and shut up about them.  “We had to dry them and didn’t get to iron them or any of that fancy shit,” Soonyoung snorts at that, and Minghao retorts with, “but you’re one to talk.”

“Both of you though?” Soonyoung questions, but Minghao knows where he’s going with it because it doesn’t sound too much like a question and more like a suggestion. He can tell this conversation is going downhill _really_ fast. Soonyoung was like a fucking bloodhound when it came to things like trying to pair two people up together and noticing weird details nobody else would really care about. He’d be the type to pair up any two things that even so much as breathed at the same time and Minghao didn’t approve, but at least he’d usually shut up about it when Junhui points out that Jihoon in their social sciences class would stare him down every day and that _must_ mean it’s love.

“Yeah,” Junhui answers for Minghao, and it gives the blond a chance to close his locker and readjust his books without dropping anything while students mill around them. “I ended up staying over because of the rain.”

“Right,” Soonyoung deadpans, glancing at the both of them with a raised brow before he shuts his locker too, pushing it closed with his shoulder while his plump arms wrap around the unnecessarily thick text books. “Because of the rain, huh?”

Junhui rolls his eyes as he kicks the locker door shut and slides the lock into place, but doesn’t lock it, instead, settling the lock carefully so it’ll look like it is. Minghao still doesn’t really get it but it’s probably so he won’t have to go through the effort of trying to open it later on. The only things in his locker are homework and textbooks and papers anyway, and Minghao is pretty sure _nobody_ is going to want to steal any of that.

They start off down the hallway, weaving through other bustling students and teachers rushing to get to homeroom before the school bell chimes. “What’s up with the girls earlier?” Junhui interrogates, nudging Soonyoung with an elbow and a suggestive eyebrow raise.

“Oh,” Soonyoung sounds a little surprised at first, but his features turn into something a little more teasing as he continues, and Minghao wants to punch both of them in the face; Junhui for bringing it up and Soonyoung for making it weird. “Are you _jealous_ Junhui?” He barks, an incredulous expression on his face as he turns to Minghao and pushes his shoulder. Minghao stumbles a little as they squeeze through the doorway into their homeroom class and he’s met with the overwhelming stench of axe body spray mingling with what smells like too much cheap candy. Half of the students are already there and chatting away with friends, sitting on desks and benches, and the usual smell of morning class is mostly because of them. “Careful, Minghao. Junhui’s got an eye for the ladies. You might have some competition here.”

Minghao grits his teeth as he narrows his eyes at Soonyoung and scans the room for Seokmin to save them from said boy, at least until first period, but he’s not in class yet and when Minghao glances over at Junhui, he can see that the brunet regrets saying anything and he manages to shoot Minghao an apologetic look without Soonyoung noticing. “Fuck off,” Junhui mutters in Soonyoung’s direction as he slips into his seat and leans back, swinging on his chair and throwing the middle finger up at the offending white haired boy when he laughs and blows a kiss.

Minghao lets out a snort of laughter before slipping into his seat, throwing his books down on the old wooden desk and leaning back in his chair, looking over as Soonyoung pulls up a chair next to his and Junhui’s table and sits on it backwards, legs hanging from either side. Minghao kicks at his leg with a loud laugh and Soonyoung grunts in response before shushing them and pulling out a piece of paper with scribbles and words on it that Minghao can’t make out while Soonyoung waves it in their faces.

“The girls were some second years in my dance class asking for help with their choreo,” he informs, and Minghao’s almost forgotten that Junhui had asked anything in the first place, but he prompts Soonyoung to continue when he pauses to glance at Seokmin who comes through the door, bright smiles and cheerful waves in their direction. “Our prac exam is coming up soon and they thought I knew what I was doing last year.”

“Right,” Junhui scoffs, trying his best to imitate Soonyoung’s voice while leaning back in his chair even more so it swings precariously on its’ back legs and ends up almost giving Minghao a heart attack, “asking for help with their choreo because they thought _you_ knew what you were doing last year.”

Soonyoung makes an effort to snarl at Junhui and kick at his table. “Shut up Junhui,” he grouses, pulling Seokmin down into the seat next to him by the hem of his shirt. Junhui laughs a little too vehemently and Seokmin gives each of them an odd look before settling into his seat with a confused smile, all mussed black hair and sharp nose that could definitely poke an eye out if you stepped too close.

“Did you end up finishing your maths assignment?” Seokmin asks, turning to Minghao and reaching over to tap his shoulder, just in case he wasn’t paying attention. Minghao turns to face him and if he wasn’t paying attention before, he was definitely paying attention _now_ because _assignment? What goddamn assignment?_

“Wait,” Minghao stalls, wracking his brain for a good few moments before he realises what Seokmin is talking about and _oh god_ he was totally unprepared for this what the _fuck_. “It’s due today?” He asks, voice hushed and wavering a little as he panics, licking his lips as his fingers twitch, itching to pull out the assignment wedged somewhere in one of his textbooks.

“Yeah, it’s due today.” Seokmin tells him, brows furrowing in concern and lips turning downwards. “So did you finish it?”

Minghao groans and runs his fingers through his hair with a huff. “Fuck, _no_ I did not finish it.”

“Were you too busy last night or something?” Soonyoung asks, and Minghao wants to smack him because he’s wiggling his brows at him suggestively, but Junhui beats him to it with a scrunched up paper ball thrown at his head.

“I just forgot about it Soonyoung, _god_.” Minghao says, burying his face into his hands and staying like that, trying to calm himself down. He really did _not_ need any more fuck ups at school or emails to parents about poor performances.

“Are you going to be okay?” Junhui asks from next to him, shuffling over and moving his chair closer. Minghao could see how the brunet’s eyes glanced over at his notebooks, lips curved into a frown, and the obvious worry on his features. “I’ll help you if you need me to. You should’ve told me yesterday.”

“Yeah,” Seokmin pipes up, “you can like, copy off my shit if you wanna, I don’t really mind. Maths is just before lunch, right?”

Minghao nods and moves his hands away from his face. He feels a little dizzy, a little nauseous, and he thinks maybe it’s because of the amount of cheap deodorants and perfumes clouding the whole classroom in an almost toxic smog. “Yeah I’ll… I’ll finish it up in homeroom,” he murmurs, “I’ll be okay.”

Junhui carefully brings up a hand to rest on Minghao’s shoulder as the blond boy dazedly pulls his assignment paper out and fishes for a pen. He can feel the other’s eyes’ on him and his face is flushed an uncomfortable shade of crimson. He’s so embarrassed and he knows they’re all so worried about him - they tell him every day - but he _knows_ he can do this.

Minghao shrugs Junhui’s hand away and waves Seokmin off when he starts to say something about giving his work to Minghao to copy off. He’s not even too sure of what he’s writing down or if it’s bullshit, but he feels numb. The others soon go back to talking between themselves, about some show Minghao never watches and couldn’t care less about.

“By the way, Minghao.” Soonyoung calls, and Minghao looks up at him, confused and annoyed and so _stressed_ to finish the assignment, but he humours the poor guy anyway.

“Yeah, what is it this time Soonyoung?”

“You might wanna pull up your scarf or something,” Soonyoung whispers not so quietly, motioning to his neck and Minghao feels his blood run cold, face heating up even more. “Your hickeys are showing.”

* * *

“Minghao, I don’t know what’s happened the past couple of months but your grades are slipping pretty severely and it’s not because you’re answering things incorrectly,” Ms. Park mumbles through a mouthful of rice, “it’s because you’re just not handing your work in.”

Minghao fidgets awkwardly in his seat, fiddling with his fingers and eyes downcast, burning a hole through the vomit-green carpet in the mathematics department office. He can smell the overpowering scent of spices and meat wafting from the curry and rice in Ms. Park’s lunch and it’s honestly making his own stomach complain rather adamantly, but Ms. Park doesn’t seem to realise and keeps spooning curry and rice into her mouth.

“Look here,” she continues, wide brown eyes looking up over her thick glasses, “I know you’re a good kid. You’re smart, and you behave well in class,” she pauses again to brush her salt and pepper hair back behind her ear before taking another bite, “although your hair is a little questionable.”

The only thing Minghao can do is nod and agree, looking up nervously at the mention of his hair and as if on cue a wisp blows over his eyes from the drafty open window and he quickly flicks it out of the way. His stomach makes a couple more rumbles before it settles and Minghao eyes that curry hungrily for a moment before looking back up when his math teacher starts speaking again.

“The point is,” Ms. Park sighs, setting down her container and fork on the small desk, “you’re not doing so well, and we’re all concerned. _All_ of your teachers, not just me.” She looks up and makes eye contact with Minghao and it’s that look again. That look that says ‘ _I’m worried about you_ ’ and ‘ _you need some help, let me help you_ ’. Minghao hates it. He doesn’t need help. He can deal with this. “Is everything going alright at home?”

He almost scoffs. Absolutely fucking _peachy_ if he were to be honest. Parents are never home and he’s living off takeout and Junhui’s pity cooking which isn’t all too bad. He has too much time on his hands to do school work but he never does it, and just the thought of getting fucked over at school stresses him the hell out. He can’t concentrate, never feels motivated and all his friends pity him because they’re all doing _great_ and they want to help. Life is absolutely _great_ at home because he doesn’t have to deal with _bullshit_ like this. Home is a place where he can take a break. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” He says instead.

Ms. Park frowns. “You sure?” She asks, doubt evident in her voice, but she lets it go when Minghao responds with a short nod, “I think maybe you should go and talk to the school counsellor or the student counsellors. They might be able to help you out.”

“Okay,” Minghao says quickly, “I’ll think about it.”

There’s another look of apprehension of Ms. Park’s features as she moves to slide open her top drawer and pulls out a piece of paper, scribbling something on it with black ink before she hands it over to Minghao. “Take this referral slip,” she insists, frown growing deeper once Minghao carefully takes the piece of paper between his fingers, “one of the student counsellors is your friend, right? Jeonghan?”

Minghao nods and plays with the corner of the paper between his fingers, hissing under his breath when he feels a small sharp pain on the pad of his thumb. A paper cut. “Yeah.” He confirms, and he really just wants to get out of there, wants to go and _eat_ and _relax_ ; but he needs to play along to get Ms. Park off his back or she’d keep him in with her and that curry longer than necessary.

“Alright,” Ms. Park says, getting up with a small huff, “I’ll give you until tomorrow’s class to finish off that assignment and that’s it, okay?”

Minghao thanks Ms. Park with a bow and an assurance that the assignment will be with her by math class the next day, and he’s out the door, scrambling to get to the cafeteria before lunch actually _ends_ or there’s no more food left, although at this time, food was probably out of the question. He makes it into the half empty cafeteria room; most students already out playing soccer or sitting outside, but the small group of friends he has is sitting at their usual end of the table, chatting away noisily. Junhui catches Minghao’s eye when the blond boy walks through the glass door and it hit with the smell of _food_ that makes his stomach rumble and growl.

Junhui turns to look over and Minghao finds himself flushing a little pink in the cheeks when the brunet smiles brightly and motions for him to come over. Minghao realises Junhui has saved a seat right next to him, and as he gets closer he can see Soonyoung giving him suggestive glances, eyebrow wiggling and all. He kind of maybe wants to punch him in the nose but Wonwoo is already glaring at Soonyoung dangerously from over the top of his novel. Soonyoung must’ve caught the glare soon after because he stops with the eyebrows and goes back to nodding to whatever Seokmin is talking to him about.

Minghao shoots Wonwoo an appreciative smile, to which Wonwoo acknowledges with a small nod, getting back to reading. If there is one person Minghao can rely on for Soonyoung damage control, or damage control in general: it’s definitely Wonwoo. The boy has an affinity for cold glares from behind jet black hair and narrow eyes, and always seems to be a little too eager to tell Soonyoung to stop hounding them.

Next to Wonwoo is Mingyu, as usual. The two of them are almost always attached at the hip and it’s somewhat of an odd combination. Mingyu, the tall, loud, almost puppy-like class clown with too many ex-girlfriends and Wonwoo, the quiet, antisocial boy with resting bitchface and a constant flow of books in his hands. Wonwoo would warm up on rare occasions and turn into somewhat of a puppy himself (Junhui’s description of Wonwoo, not Minghao’s), but those moments were rarely seen on school grounds.

Soonyoung had tried to set Mingyu and Wonwoo up too when they were in their first year of high school, but he’d backed off once Mingyu started dating the female class president within the first month. Wonwoo also started giving those glares that didn’t work properly until this one time Wonwoo pulled Soonyoung out into the back of the sports storage shed at the end of lunch. Minghao had never seen Soonyoung so spooked when he’d walked back into class.

Minghao eventually shuffles over to the table, but he doesn’t sit down. Instead he stands behind his seat, eyeing the uneaten food on the tray in front of Junhui as Mingyu, with his mussed brown hair sticking up in unimaginable directions, talks animatedly to Jeonghan who looks more like he’s going along with it for the sole purpose of humouring Mingyu. His hair reaches about three inches past his shoulders, even when it’s tied up neatly in a low ponytail, shorter fringe pieces escaping the elastic and falling around the sides of his face, framing his delicate features and wide eyes. Junhui is looking at him expectantly, and  Jeonghan pauses to look up from his seat when Minghao smiles at Junhui, resting a hand on the boy’s broad shoulder.

“Hey,” Junhui greets in a low voice, “I didn’t know when you’d be back and how much time you’d have and how much food would be left,” he smiles softly and motions to the tray in front of him before glancing at Soonyoung hesitantly, “so I just saved some of my lunch for you instead.”

“Yeah,” Mingyu interrupts from across the table, moving on from his conversation with Jeonghan even though Minghao’s pretty sure nobody was paying too much attention to it in the first place, “he like, refused to eat anything because he was scared you were gonna starve.”

Minghao pauses for a moment to look at Junhui, tray still filled with food right in front of him and he’s slightly put out by the fact that Junhui probably hadn’t eaten enough for himself. The blond carefully pulls out the empty chair in between Junhui and Jeonghan, and slides into his seat. “How much did you eat?” He asks quietly.

Junhui shrugs and pushes the tray closer to Minghao. “About half.”

Minghao gives the way more than half full tray a disapproving look. “The kimchi is untouched and there’s still a fishcake skewer,” he deadpans, but he pulls the tray up to himself and picks up the skewer gingerly between his slim fingers, turning it over as he frowns disapprovingly at Junhui.

“I know you like the fishcakes. Just eat before we need to go back to class or I’ll hold you down and force feed you myself.”

“Kinky.” Mingyu whispers from across the table and there’s a slight jolt from Wonwoo before the tall brown haired boy next to him yelps and winces in pain, reaching down to nurse what could only really be his sore leg. Wonwoo sits there next to him, unfazed as he continues reading his book with a sated smile.

Jeonghan gives them both a warning glare as he turns to Minghao with his brows knitted together, worry evident in his voice when he asks, “why were you out late?” Minghao is about to answer himself but is _very_ rudely interrupted by Seokmin.

“He didn’t hand in his assignment and Ms. Park wanted to talk to him about it.” The black haired boy whispers to Jeonghan, but Minghao is sure everyone at the table hears it because all other conversation dies down and all eyes turn to Seokmin before flicking over to Minghao and he can feel his face go _red_. Seokmin has absolutely _zero_ amount of subtlety when it comes to things such as whispering or secrets or _grades_ and it’s not Minghao’s fault that he’s so unnecessarily smart that someone who used to be doing alright suddenly doing poorly, is completely otherworldly.

“Ah,” is all Jeonghan manages to say at first, lips curving up into a concerned smile, “are you okay Minghao?” He asks, and Minghao wants to to tell everyone everything is fantastic - absolutely _amazing_ \- even though it isn’t - and to actually be _honest_ about it. At least hopefully it would get everyone off his back about it.

“Are you going to get a failing mark?” Wonwoo asks worriedly, putting his novel down and slipping a scrap piece of paper between the pages.  “If you need help with math you know you can ask me, right?” Or he could as Junhui or Mingyu too, because they were all in the same advanced math class that Minghao had no chance of getting into - ever - and which made his assignment look like fifth grade mental math questions. Sure.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Minghao groans. He’s seriously getting enough of this and everyone’s questions and concerns are making him _more_ stressed out than before. He didn’t need this. “It’s really not a big deal. The math isn’t difficult, I just forgot about the assignment.” Nobody seems to buy it. Mingyu is frowning at him, Seokmin has that _look_ on his face that he gets when there’s a problem he has trouble solving, Soonyoung’s wearing a confused smile, Jeonghan looks at him like Minghao is the most pitiful piece of shit and Wonwoo has his eyebrows so close together in pure _concern_ that Minghao is scared that if he looks any more worried, his brows will stitch themselves together permanently.

The look he hates the most though, is Junhui’s. He looks so fucking _stressed_ , chewing on his bottom lip and fingers nervously playing with each other. Minghao has only seen him like that when he’d forget his wallet at the shops, or if he’d get anything below a sixty percent on a test; so he desperately tries to rectify the situation. “I have until tomorrow to hand it in anyways, so I’ll be okay.” Minghao assures, and he hopes it’s enough for everyone to get those _looks_ off their faces.

Junhui nods at that, although his expression doesn’t change and his fingers don’t keep dancing around each other. Everyone else seems to relax though, but Junhui _doesn’t_ and that only makes Minghao feel _worse_. “I don’t have anything due tomorrow,” Junhui murmurs, looking over into Minghao’s eyes expectantly, and Minghao _knows_ what he’s trying to suggest, and he doesn’t like it.

“No,” Minghao states firmly, “it’s a Tuesday and you haven’t been home yet.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Junhui shrugs and pulls the fishcake skewer from Minghao’s fingertips, holding it to the younger boy’s lips because he isn’t eating. “Let me help you.”

Minghao hesitantly takes a fishcake into his mouth, dragging it off the stick with his teeth. Junhui smiles at him, really _smiles_ at him, and he thinks Junhui gets what that means to him. Minghao can’t help but smile back, and it honestly would’ve been perfect if Soonyoung wasn’t so damn noisy all the time. “Remember not give him too many hickeys tonight!” Soonyoung exclaims, and Minghao _groans_ so loudly that people still left at other tables turn to look at them, but he honestly couldn’t care less.

“Leave them alone, Soonyoung,” Wonwoo gripes, throwing the boy a glare, “Minghao said they’re nothing - just bug bites or some shit. Let it go.”

“I’m just teasing them,” Soonyoung assures, but there’s an odd smile plastered over his face and he looks way too smug to be honestly telling the truth, “I _swear_.”

* * *

There’s a small old convenience store somewhere between school and Minghao’s house, and it usually stocks all the basic necessities. Toilet paper, instant ramen, milk. It’s owned by some frail old lady who’s always wearing some sort of floral printed fabric scarf, and Minghao comes in every Tuesday and Thursday just because he knows those are the days that she works. He isn’t a big fan of her daughter, who tells him to hurry up and stop making a ruckus whenever he comes in on the old lady’s off days - even when he isn’t really doing anything.

The old lady waves and says a cheerful hello to him when he walks in with his school backpack slung over his shoulder, as usual. Minghao greets her back with a polite bow and he’s surprised when she greets Junhui too, telling him that she hadn’t seen him in a long while. At least a year, she says, and she’s probably right too. Her memory was _definitely_ far from gone.

“I only come here with you,” Junhui explains to him when Minghao gives the brunet a questioning look, because Minghao is sure Junhui’s mum comes to the same shop for some of _their_ groceries, but Junhui seems to navigate his way around the store pretty well nonetheless. Minghao knows he has a great memory too.

Minghao only picks up the basics and they’re out within half an hour, an extra few packs of instant noodles stuffed into their plastic bags by the old lady and Junhui announces that dinner is instant ramen ‘ _Jun style_ ’, which really just means an egg and a couple extra vegetables dropped into the broth while it cooks on the stove. The younger boy doesn’t really complain about it, because he’d make the same thing himself if Junhui wasn’t there - only without the egg and vegetables because why even bother with trying to create a balanced meal out of instant noodles?

It’s only about a 5 minute walk back to Minghao’s house from the store and usually there’s small talk between the two of them or even just comfortable silence but today the silence is so _different_ and tense and Minghao doesn’t know why. He flicks his eyes from the pathway to Junhui and back again. He’s feeling a little guilty, anxious even, but Junhui seems fine - and maybe that’s why Minghao is so uncomfortable.

“Are you sure?” Minghao asks, but it doesn’t come out as anything other than a strained whisper in the empty streets. The sound is hollow; almost lonely in a way, but when Junhui turns to look at him and nod, his stomach drops.

“I’m sure,” Junhui whispers back, “I need to help you.”

Minghao feels a laugh being ripped from his throat and it’s so _dry_ , so humourless and dead and _sad_. He doesn’t think he’s heard anyone laugh in such a way before; it makes him self conscious of himself in a way he’s never felt before. “No,” he tells Junhui, “you don’t.” The older boy visibly frowns at him, carefully scanning his eyes over Minghao in concern and yet all Minghao feels is dread. Junhui shouldn’t have to go through this because of him. Junhui should be at home, taking a break from his homework, spending time with his little brother or his parents or even taking a nap. Yet here he was, walking next to Minghao in the late afternoon helping him carry bags of groceries back home and Minghao couldn’t feel shittier.

They leave their shoes at the front door and shuffle in with much less enthusiasm than the day before. The rain isn’t chasing them inside and they’re not running hand in hand through puddles and doorways. Minghao misses yesterday; wishes he could go back to a time where he didn’t do shit on a test _and_ not hand his math assignment in.

Junhui only thanks him when Minghao ushers him through to the kitchen to put down the groceries and he even so much as offers to put them away for Minghao while he gets on with finishing his assignment. Minghao’s heart sinks at the thought of it and he’s so _stressed_ that he might not finish it - so he takes the offer rather hesitantly, pressing a soft kiss to Junhui’s cheek before the older boy smiles sadly and shoos him off.

Minghao shows himself into his bedroom, bright red carpet and bare white walls overloading his senses, and he takes a moment to _breathe_ before he throws his bag down onto the ground and starts pulling books out of the worn backpack. Junhui enters shortly after Minghao’s settled down onto his floor and like that, they work on the assignment together. Minghao feels like he asks too many questions when he’s stuck, and after about half way through he stops all questions altogether until it’s Junhui again who complains about hunger and they move themselves into the kitchen to eat their instant ramen.

Junhui sits next to him like he always does, and he teases Minghao about how much of an idiot he is when a noodle flicks soup into his eye. Minghao laughs along and smacks Junhui’s arm but it’s all for appearances - to make sure Junhui doesn’t worry about him any more than he already does because he’s really not feeling up to joking around right now. He finishes his ramen quickly and gets up to do the dishwashing by himself, even though Junhui insists they do it together. The blond boy reminds the oldest of the two that he had put away the groceries and he shouldn’t have let a guest do that in his house and he owed him one.

Junhui shrugs and ends up with his arms around Minghao’s waist as the boy washes dishes, chin resting on his shoulder. Minghao’s heart is racing and it’s so painful when Junhui starts humming some weird song under his breath right next to Minghao’s ear. Minghao is really not sure of what to do for the first time, and it troubles him. This was supposed to be normal. Was it the stress? Was it worry? Was he thinking too much about his assignment?

So many thoughts - too many, actually, and Minghao nearly drops a plate on the floor when he reaches over to put it on the drying rack and he figures that maybe _everything_ is distracting and that’s why he can’t concentrate. His heart is racing even faster and he feels a little faint after the scare, but he keeps going because he needs to learn to do things by himself - not by other people doing things for him. Junhui notices the blunder though, and he ends up helping Minghao rinse the dishes anyway, much to the younger boy’s protest.

Minghao doesn’t allow Junhui back into his room after their dinner, and insists on telling Junhui to sleep on the couch while he works on it himself, and although Junhui is hesitant, he accepts. Minghao can see those bloodshot eyes and tired movements, and considering he was _slept on_ the night before, he gathers that Junhui didn’t get that much of a good sleep. Couple that fact with the immense amounts of homework Junhui would get, and it’s a guaranteed disaster. They were in a dead period though; less things to worry about just before the next set of assignments are given out, and he needed Junhui to take a long, deep breath.

Minghao sits on the floor of his room in silence, but he can’t seem to compel himself to pick up the pen and write anything down for a solid ten minutes. He manages to work through the questions slowly, but it’s _too_ slow and Minghao ends up stalling before each question, and in the time it would’ve usually taken him to finish the whole set, he’s reluctantly only completed about a quarter of the remaining questions.

His head feels heavy and his whole body is numb; he doesn’t know why he feels so _drained_. Minghao struggles through another few questions, pen dragging over the white paper in messy strokes, fingers sore and unwilling. He wants to lie down, go to sleep maybe - but he knows he only has this one chance and he needs to take it. He wants to take it.

“Minghao.” Junhui calls from Minghao’s bedroom door when it’s dark. It’s hours after dinner and Minghao jolts when he hears Junhui’s loud voice in his quiet room. He lifts his head up from his assignment with a dazed expression, and Junhui is there, leaning against the door frame, corners of his lips turned down in worry.

“Jun.” Minghao responds, voice coming out almost like a drawl. He feels a little lightheaded; tired even, but he needs to keep going. He needs to show everyone that he can do it by himself so they’ll stop worrying about him. Especially Junhui with his wrinkled forehead and furrowed brows standing in his doorway.

Junhui sighs in exasperation, stepping into the room and strolling over to Minghao’s side with a lazy stretch, school shirt untucked and riding up to show the lower half of Junhui’s stomach; but Minghao can barely concentrate on anything. “How is it going?” The brunet asks as he drops down to sit next to the younger boy, and Minghao moves a piece of paper over his questions, embarrassed because he _knows_ he’s barely done any work.

“I’m nearly finished.” He assures Junhui with a smile, but it sounds ironically unsure of himself, and he wants to dig a hole and bury himself in it. The whole thing was a mess.

“You didn’t have much left when we went for dinner,” Junhui scolds him, “how much have you really done?”

The younger boy shrinks back and pulls his jumper sleeves over his hands. “Most of it, honest.” Minghao tells him, a little too desperately, “I just… I can’t concentrate.” Minghao sighs, and he feels Junhui’s hand, warm and comforting through his shirt, rubbing circles on his back. He turns around slightly, and his eyes lock with the other boy’s for a split second before he leans in to press his lips against Junhui’s without much forethought.

Minghao’s hand finds its way to the back of Junhui’s neck, pulling him in a little more. His eyes are shut tight, hoping that it would all just so away so he can forget again. He breathes in, the air around him so _thick_ and it hurts his lungs but he _needs_ it. He needs to struggle for air to feel like he’s working for _something_ and he’s tilting his head up, pressing closer to Junhui, yet the other boy places a firm hand on his chest and pushes him away slowly, shaking his head with a sad smile and pink cheeks.

“Not now, Minghao.” He says apologetically. Minghao’s heart clenches, his chest hurts and it’s strange because it’s so easy to breathe like this; but he nods, face turning a deep crimson from embarrassment. Minghao moves his hands away, stuffing them into his lap and he gets it, but he tries to justify himself anyway.

“But-”

“No,” Junhui stops him, voice steady but not unkind, “you need help.”

Minghao blinks at him. He can feel a lump in his throat that wasn’t there before. His hands are clammy and his breath is ragged and he looks up into Junhui’s eyes to gauge his expression but he’s only met with determined eyes and pursed lips. “Are you… mad at me?” Minghao asks in a small voice, chewing on his bottom lip uncertainly, “Upset?”

Junhui shakes his head with a small sigh and shuffles closer to Minghao, carefully slipping his arm around the boy’s shoulders and pulling him close to his chest. “No,” Junhui murmurs, petting Minghao’s hair gingerly,”I’d never. I’m just-”

“Worried?” Minghao scoffs and pulls himself away, curling himself up against the bean bag in the corner of the room, “I can do this, Jun.”

Junhui sighs in exasperation and runs a hand through his hair, and Minghao can tell that he’s a little frustrated with him despite what he says. “I know you can, but you can’t do it yourself, Minghao. You need to let me help you.” Junhui tells him, pulling Minghao back into his chest and he pushes Minghao’s head down onto his shoulder gently. “You can’t concentrate properly because you’re too stressed, and you’re too stressed because you can’t concentrate properly.” Minghao squirms a little, but he doesn’t make another move to get away. “Let me _help_.”

“I can do it myself.”

“Minghao-”

“I _can_ , Junhui.” Minghao insists, and he can feel tears stinging his eyes. He huffs indignantly and buries his face into the crook of Junhui’s neck, trying to hide his face. “I can do it.” He repeats, voice muffled and he takes in a slow, shaky breath to calm himself. It’s useless, however, and all he gets is the smell of Junhui and the lingering scent of his own shampoo as he blinks back tears. He feels so _ashamed_ of himself for being so weak. Minghao can feel Junhui’s mouth open to speak, but Minghao cuts in before he can get a word out. “Jun, I can do it.” He whispers, probably more to himself than anyone else. “I promise I can do it.”

Junhui pulls Minghao away softly, the younger boy looking away and he’s so sure that if he looks up into that piercing gaze, the tears will fall and it’ll all be over in an instant. He feels Junhui’s eyes on him, and it’s so tempting to look up into them, but Junhui just pulls him back down into his chest, and it’s suddenly too overwhelming to comprehend anything besides the tears that are starting to stain Junhui’s shirt.

 _God_ , he couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t let Junhui worry, but the tears are soaking through and they’re so obvious and Junhui can probably feel them and he’s screwing everything up so _badly_. Junhui just wraps an arm around his waist and whispers soothing words into his hair, and that just breaks him. Minghao sobs; full on sobs into Junhui’s chest, shaking and trembling and getting snot and tears and _feelings_ all over the place and he _knows_ that he _can’t_ do it - but he wants to. He wants to so bad.

_I can do it._

* * *

Minghao slinks out of math class with a satisfied smile and more importantly, a satisfied Ms. Park. He’d handed his assignment in at the start of the lesson and had been basically stress free all period which was pretty goddamn nice. Even Seokmin and Soonyoung had left him alone to his own devices when they had to do in class work, and it was definitely a pleasant change - a very welcome change. He was still tired as fuck though, and he had no idea what time he’d ended up going to bed after he’d walked Junhui back to his place and made his mum her own instant ramen once he’d gotten back home.

 _Fuck_ , he had Chemistry next though and the professor was probably either still pissed that Minghao’s parents hadn’t replied to that email yet (if he even sent one), or maybe he was in luck and the guy didn’t remember that far back even though it was only like… two days ago. He weaves his way through the swarm of students moving to their next class before their teacher does the class attendance and marks them late. He’s rushing a little too, because he spent a little too much time packing up his shit in math and now he might be one of those late people. He doesn’t need the professor to have another reason to hate him.

“Minghao?” He hears Jeonghan call from behind him in the hallway, and Minghao turns his head around in the direction of Jeonghan’s voice as he approaches, pushing through people to catch up with the lanky blonde.

“Hey Jeonghan,” Minghao greets cheerfully when Jeonghan falls into step beside him, “what’s up?”

Jeonghan opens his mouth to answer, but hesitates for a moment. Minghao gives him an odd look and prompts him to continue with a nod and the raise of an eyebrow. “Junhui told me in physics…“ Jeonghan says carefully, voice soft yet probing, like he’s looking for an answer of some sort. Minghao frowns.

“Told you what?” He asks after Jeonghan doesn’t continue, and he’s a little confused because what was there to tell? A little voice in his head tells him it might be _something_ , because there definitely _was_ something that none of them knew about, but Junhui wouldn’t possibly mention anything about _that_. He knew that much at least.

“About last night,” Jeonghan tells him with an uncertain nod, trying to get Minghao to follow along. The only thing Minghao remembers about last night with Junhui was painfully finishing his math assignment and eating instant ramen - and neither of those things constituted what Jeonghan was implying.

Jeonghan sighs and pulls him to the side of the hallway to let people pass, and leads him into the doorway of an empty classroom. He’s chewing his lip nervously when Minghao gives him an impatent grunt and he finally spits it out - although Minghao kind of wishes that he hadn’t. “Did you cry last night?”

“Wait, what?” Minghao can’t seem to comprehend the question and he’s feeling a little dizzy because all of a sudden he _thinks_ he knows what Junhui told Jeonghan and he’s very far from happy about it.

“Did you cry last night?” Jeonghan repeats, a little louder this time, “From stress?” Minghao only stares at him in bewilderment and _hurt_ and ohmygod that the _fuck_ Junhui? “You know,” Jeonghan continues a little more confidently, “if you need help you _can_ talk to me, or get me to set up a meeting with the school counsellor if you don’t want to talk to me or another student.”

Minghao still can’t believe it. He can’t believe Junhui would _tell_ anyone about something like that - something so _personal_. What kind of disrespectful asshole possessed his best friend and _why_? “He _told_ you?” Jeonghan fidgets and presses himself up against the wall at Minghao’s offended tone with a small shrug. His hands come up to nervously play with a strand of his hair and as he shrinks back against the white plaster like _he’s_ the one who’s done something wrong. Fucking _Christ_ , Minghao can’t believe this. He turns around with a frustrated grunt and a scoff, storming his way down the hall and powering through the last rush of students heading to their classes and he can hear Jeonghan let out a panicked sound and follow after him.

“He’s just worried about you,” Jeonghan calls out to him desperately, long brown hair flowing behind him, “we all are.” He’s heard that enough the past few days, weeks, months - since whenever he started screwing everything up and he _knows_ they’re worried because they keep reminding him and it doesn’t help. He’s fucking _furious_ with Junhui though, and he manages to get to their chemistry class without bumping into too many people. “Minghao-”

He bursts through the door and he doesn’t fucking _care_ what people think, striding across the classroom and coming up to Junhui’s desk right at the front. He can feel his body tremble and his eyes are stinging again but he can’t cry in front of Wen fucking Junhui ever again and he sure as hell isn’t going to back down. He reaches down and he isn’t exactly sure what he’s going to do - but he ends up throwing Junhui’s books onto the floor, sliding them off the table with a loud crash and he instantly regrets it, but he keeps going. “The _hell_ do you think you are to go around telling people about last night?” Minghao wants to cringe when his voice cracks mid-sentence, and he sounds so much more _hurt_ than angry and that definitely was _not_ what he was going for.

Junhui looks up at him, eyes wide and completely stunned. The class has gone dead quiet so he can hear Jeonghan curse at the back of the classroom and he’s so fucking _embarrassed_ and _frustrated_ and overall just really fucked up. “Minghao look,” Junhui rambles nearly incoherently, eyes darting from Minghao to the rest of the class, “it was _just_ Jeonghan and I’m worried-”

“ _Fuck_ you.” Minghao manages to choke out, and at that moment, the chemistry teacher walks into the classroom, angry brows scrunched together and confused voice breaking through the otherwise silent room, asking about whatever the hell was going on. Fuck it - fuck goddamn everything. Minghao doesn’t give a shit. He’s so _done_ and _upset_ and he doesn’t even care what the other people think of him anymore he’s just so _overwhelmed_ by everything.

He gives Junhui one last withering look, lip quivering and he wills himself not to cry again. Crying meant giving up - and he _wasn’t_ going to give up. Minghao makes his way over to the door again and throws it open, nearly dropping his books in the process. He can hear the chemistry teacher angrily calling for him to come back to class and Junhui’s panicked rambling, but the only sound he pays attention to is the sound of Jeonghan’s voice speaking up over the ruckus as his feet take him further down the hallway. “He’s going to see the counsellor, sir.”

Okay then. The counsellor. Minghao had no idea what the fuck kind of idea he had walking out of class like that - _fuck_ \- where else was he supposed to go? Not home. Not outside. Not to another class. Minghao brings up a sleeve to rub furiously at his eyes when tears start to roll down his face and he feels so pathetic. A student with papers walks past and gives Minghao a look. _“Look at this miserable asshole”_ it probably says, and Minghao wants to laugh at himself. How pitiful.

Hell, he’s really got nothing else to do. He can’t go back to class. Not with Junhui there to give him apologetic looks all lesson, Jeonghan there to fuss over him and Mr. Angry-Chem-Teacher there to yell at him and ask him what the hell went wrong with his grades just like everyone else had been doing. He figures that maybe Jeonghan had given him the perfect cover - the fucking counsellor. Maybe he would then, just to see if they could help more than last time and he could prove everyone wrong; so he rounds the corner and heads for the counsellor’s office. He’ll be okay. He knows it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, welcome to the end of chapter two - you made it.
> 
> Please leave some constructive criticism! Especially on pacing because damn this is real slow so far and really heavy on the character!!! development!!! I really feel like I word vomited too much here ew.
> 
> You guys can also stalk me on tumblr @minghowdareu or on Instagram @mareenaishere - I don't do anything tbh but we can talk c:


End file.
